


The official Sherlock Holmes fanclub

by Benedict_holmes, huvudrollen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fanclub, M/M, Oxford, Teenlock, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benedict_holmes/pseuds/Benedict_holmes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/huvudrollen/pseuds/huvudrollen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his fathers death John Watson decides to transfer to Oxford University. But little did he know that he would meet the star of campus. Sherlock Holmes. And his little fan club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting Sherlock Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> Before you begin to read this story. I have to admit that i cant take all the credit. I couldn't have done it without my cowriter. This story began as an prompt on my instagram. Where i wrote "AU: Sherlock has a super fan at university. That superfan is Benedict Cumberbatch who leads a fan club with Anderson". I didn't expect it to get such an response. People where commenting asking if this existed as an fanfic. And in the middle of the crowd where benedict_holmes. (That is her instagram name) She was willing to write an fanfic. And at the moment i didn't have a ongoing writing project. So i thought why not ? A week after we had three brilliant chapters done! I really couldn't have done this without her. She has edited my grammar and wording mistakes. And she has also written her own parts. I am really glad that i got her as an cowriter! She is absolutely brilliant in her writing! But now i wont praise her for to long. Now it is time for you to read this and do your own praising! We hope that you will enjoy this fanfic!

When John Watson decided to transfer to Oxford University. He definitely didn’t anticipate meeting Sherlock Holmes or his little fan club. He had been going to Cambridge previously. Before his dad...died. Well let’s not think about that now. This would be a good year for John Hamish Watson. He would meet a lot of new people and hopefully get a girlfriend. One of the reasons he had chosen Oxford was because it was where his best mate Greg was going. Luckily for him, it also had a fantastic medicine program. The last night at home he and Greg went out for a pint.   
“Promise me that you won’t become a wanker,” Greg said. He was very serious about this for some reason and as a result had been going on and on about all night.   
“Why would I-”  
“PROMISE ME!”   
“Yeah, alright I wont become a wanker,” John promised. He had been hoping for a fun night out with Greg. Not a lecture about how he couldn’t become a so called wanker. Greg could be a real prat sometimes. Greg took a deep sip of his beer. And burped when he had put the glass down.   
“So...What do I need to know about Oxford?” John asked. He wanted to be prepared for tomorrow.   
”What do you want to know?” Greg asked. He thought about it. What did he want to know? What could possibly be good to know when you were starting at a new university?   
John chucked and said, “Which lunatics should I avoid and who should I hang out with?” It was mostly the students he worried about. He could cope with the teachers, but the other people… They could be party animals or just plain dangerous.   
“There’s only one person you have to know about” Greg replied. He had quieted his voice a little as if this was secret.   
“Why are you whispering?” John mock whispered back.  
“Because this person probably has people everywhere gathering information for him.” That was slightly creepy. “What are they like James Bond or something,” John joked, but Greg didn’t laugh.   
“His name is Sherlock Holmes, he’s really intelligent and he knows it. He can tell everything about you from just one glance and rumor has it he’s loves murder and crimes. He solves them for the police just for fun; doesn’t get paid or anything. He’s basically a celebrity on campus, teachers and some students hate him, but most are in awe. Then they’re the ones who are really obsessed!” Greg said.   
“What do you mean by obsessed?” John asked. This was interesting. Who was this Sherlock Holmes and was so appealing about him that he was such a star on campus?  
“He has a fan club where his fans discuss everything about him, not sure of he knows about it, but he does see to know everything,” Greg shrugged, “I only heard it from Molly after she dumped me because she’s got such a big crush on him,” Greg muttered sounding bitter.   
“Sorry to hear that mate. He must be really attractive if she actually broke up with you because of him.” John wanted to say he must be bloody gorgeous if he’s better looking than you, but that would’ve sounded gay. And John was most certainly straight, thank you very much.   
“Yeah, even I can see he’s practically sex on legs. He has a brother named Mycroft, who might actually be sex on legs. He’s seven years older but both brothers are bloody beautiful; they age like fine wine in that family”. John nodded as an answer, a little dumfounded by Greg’s’... open description of the Holmes brothers. Now he supposed he had some kind of picture of what he would encounter at Oxford.

John looks at the slip of paper his dorm room is written on one last time before he looks up to search for the matching plaque. When he finds the room he tries the handle and finds it unlocked. As he opens the door he can hear someone plucking at some sort of instrument. Once the door is open enough for him to see into the room he identifies the instrument as a violin and connected to that violin is a lanky figure with unruly dark curls lying on the ground. The figure, John’s new roommate, doesn’t seem to have noticed his entrance so he clears his throat. “Hi, I’m John Watson. Your new roommate,” John starts with a smile. First impressions are very important and he needs to make a good one because who knows how long he would have to put up with this man. Well, boy was more like it, he couldn’t have been older than 17. His roommate had stopped playing and now pried one eye open, “Hmm Mycroft wasn’t able to stop administration from giving me a roommate. He’s really not as powerful as he likes to think.” John gasped at the mention of the name Mycroft.   
“You’re Sherlock?” John could definitely see what Greg had been talking about as he paid more attention to his roo- Sherlock’s face. It must be painful to have cheekbones that sharp and oh, those eyes. Sherlock hopped up from the ground, “Oh good, you’ve heard of me. That saves us some time. Unless he idiot who told you about me left out everything important,” he said and stared at John accusingly as if it was his fault that his informant may have left out some things.  
“I heard you know everything about a person by looking at them and that you like crimes. Everyone knows your name here.” John purposefully left out the parts about the fan club and the sex on legs-ness.  
Sherlock’s maintained a neutral expression before sighing and saying, “I don’t know, I deduce. I help the police when they’re out of their depth, which is more often than not. I suppose I do have quite the reputation here on campus, but that’s not exactly relevant. What is relevant, to you as my roommate at least, is that sometimes I don’t eat or sleep for days, I play my violin when I’m thinking, which may be at any hour of the day, you will not disturb my experiments until they’re complete and I will most likely experiment on you more than once, but don’t worry you won’t know when it’s happening.”   
“What do you mean by deduce?”  
“Oh, for god sakes is that all you comprehended?”  
“No, no I got it police, violin, sleeping, experiments. I’m just curious about the deductions,” John said. He was slightly annoyed at Sherlock’s automatic assumption that he’s an idiot.  
“Very well then. By deducing,” Sherlock said that last word very drawn out and loudly as if John needed to hear it said that way, “I can tell that you’re a transfer student studying to become a doctor, more specifically an army doctor. You transferred from Cambridge after your father died. Oxford was your first choice, but you wanted to stay closer to home to be with your ailing father, now that he’s gone nothing keeping you there. Despite staying for your father you were eager to get away from your alcoholic brother. How’d I do?”  
“Spot on. How’d you-”  
“Simple, you’re wearing a coat that’s clearly too large for you, so it’s your fathers. Maybe he gave it to you to remember him at college, but no you have a Cambridge sticker on your laptop. Clearly you aren’t a first year med student based on your books, but why transfer now, unless you no longer had reason to attend Cambridge, so your father died leaving you with his coat with an army patch on the sleeve. That takes care of transfer student and army doctor, now for the alcoholic brother.  You have another sticker on your laptop reading: think don’t drink, but that one’s older it’s pealing meaning this has been going on for a while. It’s no you, you’ve got all the signs of a sober man, so it’s a sibling you’ve given up on trying to help. You feel guilty for giving up so you’ve run away from Harry, written on the strap of your hand-me-down backpack, and come to Oxford.”  
John stood there jaw slack before he broke into a grin exclaiming, “That’s brilliant! That’s bloody fantastic.”  
Sherlock couldn’t help but grin back as he replied, “That’s not what people usually say.”  
“What do the-”  
“Piss off.”  
John started laughing and Sherlock found again that he was unable to resist joining in. “Did I get everything then?”  
“Harry is short for Harriet.”  
“Sister! How could I be so stupid?” Sherlock said pulling in the strap, and the John still attached, where “Harry” was written to look closer. “It’s so obviously female handwriting!”   
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. I couldn’t figure any of that out,” John said a little uncomfortable with his close proximity to Sherlock.  
“That’s because you’re an idiot John. Don’t get offended most people are. They see but they don’t observe.” John was about to reply when Sherlock’s phone dinged. Sherlock’s smile grew as he read the text. “A third suicide! Fantastic!” John was surprisingly undisturbed by Sherlock’s excitement about a suicide. This must be he police work he does. Sherlock was about to talk off when he stopped and poked his head back through the door. “You’re training to be a doctor John. You’re bound to see a lot of gruesome deaths in your life given your choice career. Would you like some, let’s call it field experience?”  
“Oh god yes.”


	2. Bad times in paradise

Sherlock hailed a taxi once they were in the street and John stared at him in wonder. He’s truly amazed by this person. This amazing Sherlock Holmes. Last night he hadn’t really understood why Greg thought Sherlock was so extraordinary, but he understood. Now he knew that Sherlock is amazing and brilliant and far from perfect yet somehow that made him more perfect. Chirst this wouldn’t make sense if he was describing anyone other than Sherlock. He really is sex on legs; in a totally not gay way. He could think another bloke was attractive without it being gay. It’s probably best to just think of something else… Like the suicides! John had only read about them in the paper. Two men and now one woman had committed suicide. They were all 18 to 23, about the age of most university students. They were teenagers and young adults at the beginning of their lives, none of them with any history of depression, self-harm, or drug abuse that had killed them selves out of the blue. Even John could tell something was off about the whole thing. They maybe had girlfriends or boyfriends and family that loved them. Sherlock believes them to be murders. That wasn’t fair to make the people in their lives think they had missed something, that they could’ve saved their loved one if the had just observed, but they hadn’t missed anything if the three dead had really been murdered. “Nothing in life is fair, though is it?” John thought bitterly remembering his father. He had been a good man, a decent man. He hadn’t deserved to die. John is pulled from his memories as they arrive at the crime scene. They got out f the cab and while John was hesitant to approach the scene Sherlock strode over exuding confidence. John has only known him for an hour, but so far he had seen no reason for Sherlock to be anything other than confident. Jesus he had only known Sherlock for an hour yet here he was willingly following his new roommate into a bloody crime scene! Roommates got close in college, right?  
   
Once they came to the crime scene, an area filled with rental containers, Sherlock was smiling brightly. That’s another rumor about Sherlock that turned out to be a fact. Sherlock Holmes enjoyed the crimes. Maybe it really was the murders he liked, but John was beginning to suspect it was more about showing off his intelligence.   
“Eric,” Sherlock nodded as they arrived at the crime scene.  
A small man, only as tall if not shorter than john replied,  
“I haven’t let anyone touch the scene, but I can’t give you much time before I have to let the forensics do their thing.” John assumed it was safe to say that man was Eric, or should he call him Anderson? Sherlock decided for him when he said, “You know I’m better than your whole team combined Anderson,” Sherlock said sounding like an arrogant prick.  
“God help me, but I need your help.”  
It seemed not everyone was willing to look the other way like Anderson was because after the ascended the stairs a young police officer stopped Sherlock and John.  
“Whoa, whoa who the hell is this?” the woman asked. She had red hair and large brown eyes. John noticed immediately that she was quite beautiful. “You should think of woman like her not Sherlock,” John thought to himself.  
“This is John Watson, he’s with me and probably will be a lot from now on,” Sherlock explained, then added, ”He needs the field experience.” John was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t comprehend anything that was being said in the conversation.   
“Just follow you here did he? I bet he’s a psychopathic freak just like you,” she sneered. She was standing with her hands on her hips, ready to fight another battle with Sherlock. Sherlock only sighed in response.  
“Oi, Watson you a freak as well?” the woman asked startling John into reality.  
“Sorry what was that?” he said.  
“Forget about it John, now Brown please move so that I can do the work that would have been done by now if you hadn’t delayed me,” Sherlock remarked. John looked at him with admiration. Sherlock was clearly used to this.   
“Piss of Holmes!” Brown said. Brown had to be a last name. Sherlock seemed to call everyone by their last names, well except for John.   
“Eloquently put,” Sherlock said with a mocking smile before walking into the area that was taped out with the usual yellow police tape. He held up the tape for John to walk under before going over to examine the body. There was a woman lying on the ground, face up. Her eyes were closed and one arm was draped limply across her stomach. The pink lipstick she wore was smeared across her face.   
“You’ve got five minutes. I’m already risking my job letting a seventeen year old into a crime scene!” Eric said from where he stood at the door. John stared in awe as Sherlock started working. He dropped down into a push up then kneeled and pulled out a magnifying glass from his pocket.  
“John what do you think about this?” Sherlock asked. John was slightly shocked. Why would his opinion matter? Sherlock probably already knew exactly what had happened, he didn’t need John’s help.   
“Um.... what do you mean?” John asked.   
“You are training to be an army doctor, you most have some idea of what caused the death.”  
“Time of death approximately… 5 hours ago and judging by the rash on her cheek she consumed poison. That alone would have caused her to die, but she choked on her own vomit and that killed her first,” John said. He was confident in his abilities, but Sherlock made him feel so stupid.  
“Brilliant John!” Sherlock said.  
“Really?” John asked skeptically. Sherlock stood up and straightened his coat and brushed the dirt of his knees.   
“You missed almost everything important, but you’re quite right about what you said. Except the rash has nothing to do with her being poisoned, she just happens to have a condition causing dry skin. Despite her bright lipstick the rest of her clothes are neutral colors meaning she was trying to get someone to notice her. Most likely in a romantic way, but she wasn’t invested enough to buy new clothes of brighter colors which would have been far more noticeable than just pink lipstick. The hem of her jeans are wet, but not her hair or coat, so she was somewhere that had a lot of rain recently but not last night which means she was in a 2 mile radius from here,” Sherlock picks up the arm that was across her stomach and pulls down the sleeve, ”Oh, she was clever! Really clever!” He turns the arm so Sherlock and Anderson can see “Starli” has been cut into it. ”You should probably check the nearest pubs. Ask if anyone saw whom she left with. I would start with Starlight Palace!”   
”Amazing!” John said before he could stop himself. Sherlock smiled at the compliment before striding out of the crime scene leaving John to follow.  
****  
When they got back to their dorm, John collapsed onto one of the beds. Almost immediately after, his phone buzzed. He checked his screen and saw he had a text from Greg.  
Prty l8er. ure cmng! no xcuses! –GL  
John really despised how people completely disregarded grammar and spelling when they texted. He responded asking Greg what the address was before telling Sherlock, “We’ve been invited to a party.”  
“You mean you’ve been invited to a party.”  
“That doesn’t mean you can’t come. As long as you pay for your beer people don’t care whether you were invited or not.”  
“Parties and beer… not really my thing.”  
“Oh, come on it’ll be fun! You’re one of my only friends here and Greg will leave me once he finds some girl to hang all over.” John could tell Sherlock’s resolve was crumbling. “Pleeeeeeease. Pretty please.”  
“The appearance of the please doesn’t change anything John, but if you really want me to come I suppose one party won’t kill me.” John beamed and his phone buzzed again. It was Greg telling him the address.  
“Let’s go!” John said smiling at Sherlock again and Sherlock smiled back.

The party was at another students house. It was packed with people drinking beer and listening to 80s pop music. It seemed to John that Sherlock had decided to wear the tightest pants and shirt he could find. The button up shirt, that was maybe two sizes to small for him, was dark purple and extremely flattering. Paired with black slacks that may as well have been a second skin, John new Sherlock would get no lack of attention tonight. For some reason this thought bothered John. It was definitely not because he wanted Sherlock for himself. Nope, because John Hamish Watson loved women! Hell, he was three continents Watson and of those three continents there had only ever been woman. But Sherlock was better then any women. John needed to get very drunk, very soon. When they entered the house Sherlock sighed.   
“Its a costume party John!” And it was true. Everyone was dressed as animals or drag queens or… other(?). He spotted Greg flirting with some blonde girl dressed as a parrot.   
”I’m gonna get us something to drink,” John yelled to Sherlock over the music before he walked away and left Sherlock alone. Standing in the corner awkwardly and unaware of what to do without John.  
   
On the other side of the room a boy and a girl stood close together conversing. At first glance you probably would have thought that they were a couple. But in reality, they had one thing in common and that was their obsession with Sherlock Holmes. It was probably the only reason why they were friends or even talked to each other for that matter. They had met through mutually following, (Not to be confused with stalking), Sherlock around. They had bumped into each other hiding behind the same bookcase and had started talking. Somehow through their conversation they had decided to start a fanclub of Sherlock appreciation. At the beginning it was just the two of them, Molly and Benedict, but gradually others had joined. The “Official Sherlock Holmes Fanclub” went from two members to five after Sherlock solved his first case on campus and became a star. They were the people that admired him the most. Sometimes they did cosplay competitions that Benedict always won. He was quite proud of his uncanny resemblance to Sherlock when he had on a black wig and the right clothes. They wrote fanfiction, discussed every rumor and anything else they heard about him. Benedict and Molly had only met Sherlock twice. And no, it wasn’t because they followed him. They just ”happeneed” to be at the right place in the right time. Tonight they got lucky again, but this time it honestly was a coincidence because Sherlock never came to parties. A party is somewhere you might go to avoid seeing Sherlock, but as Molly looked around she spotted Sherlock. Her eyes widened and she elbowed Benedict and pointed in the direction of Sherlock.  
“Oh my god Ben! What’s he doing here?!” she squealed.  
“I have no idea! I didn’t think he ever came to parties.” As the two gaped they saw a short boy with blonde hair walk up and hand him a drink.  
“Do you think he’s trying to hit on Sherlock?” Molly asked.  
“If he is he won’t last very long before Sherlock deduces him and he runs away. People are so unappreciative of his talent.” To their surprise however, Sherlock accepted the drink and genuinely looked happy to see this boy.  
“Does he have a… friend?” Molly questioned. It wasn’t hard to tell even at a distance that the shorter boy was attracted to Sherlock and from the way Sherlock leaned into him and literally threw his head back laughing it was possible that Sherlock was attracted to the stranger as well. Molly stood for a minute with her mouth hanging open before announcing, “We need to talk to that guy with Sherlock. We need to know who he is and why Sherlock is being so-” She stopped when Sherlock put his hand on the other boys arm and bent down to whisper something in his ear. She flailed her arms in the direction of the place where these things were transpiring and continued, “so that!”

When Sherlock started leaning towards John his heart began pounding in his chest. Was Sherlock going to kiss him? He had actually been talking to John the whole time they’d been there. Instead Sherlock whispered in his ear, which seemed intimate to John, but he probably just didn’t want to yell over the music. John still couldn’t hear what Sherlock had said though so he pulled back and looked at him with an apologetic expression and gestured to his ears. Sherlock clearly wasn’t too fond of repeating himself because he grabbed Johns’ hand and dragged him through the mass of bodies and outside.  
“What is it?”  
“I think I’ve figured something out. For the case.”  
“What?”  
“When I told Anderson to look in Starlight pub that was incorrect. I should’ve told him to investigate the drivers from the Starline taxi service. The victim had been trying to impress someone but she had obviously given up and tried to wipe her lipstick off. Unsuccessfully as evidence of it was smeared across her face, but she would have been too embarrassed to walk home with that on her face, so she got a taxi.”  
“Brilliant!”  
“You do know you say that out loud?”  
“Oh sorry I’ll stop.”  
“No it’s … fine,” Sherlock smirked and looked directly into John’s eyes and John was powerless to look away.  
“You should, um, probably tell Anderson all that,” John said causing Sherlock to break his gaze, so he could text Anderson. Suddenly a taxi pulled up to the curb beside them and the driver called out, “Taxi for Sherlock Holmes.” John furrowed his eyebrows. When had Sherlock ordered a taxi? Before he could react Sherlock had jumped into the backseat and it started to pull away. It was then that John noticed the sign on the taxi reading “Starline”.  
“Shit!” he shouted. If he didn’t want Sherlock to become the fourth suicide murder he needed to follow that taxi


	3. Bloody murder

Chapter 3  
When John Watson met Sherlock Holmes he never expected this. He never really expected to sit in a cab yelling to the cabbie to follow the star line cab. Johns heart was beating fast in his chest and he felt an urge...to cry. John only cried when his dad had died. But since then he never cried again. But now after meeting Sherlock the most colorful and amazing person he ever met! And the only man he ever felt the urge to lean over and kiss. His heart beat non stop. He would never be able to forgive himself if he didn’t save Sherlock. 

”The amazing Sherlock Holmes i have heard so much about you”   
Sherlock sat in the backseat of the taxi. Risking your life to show your intelligence was something you shouldn’t do. But he took the risk even if it meant maybe loosing the best thing that ever happened to you. Only knowing John Watson for less then a day. He knew that John was someone he could trust. Someone he could even love. He couldn’t help it. He was attracted to John! Sherlock met the cabbies eyes in the mirror.   
”Good that you have heard about me..then we can skip the part where we talk about me” Sherlock said. He looked at the cabbie with disgust. Mycroft would kill him if he knew about this. But it wasn’t like this was the first time he risked his life.   
”So who was that short fella that was with you ?” the cabbie asked.   
”It isn’t any of your concern!”   
”Oh yes it is-will i have to worry about him ?”  
Sherlock sighed. Maybe he had deduced John wrong.   
”No you wont” 

They had followed the taxi for ten minutes. It felt like one of those James bond movies that John watched when he was a kid. He and Harry would sit by the tv together and watch James Bond.   
”I want to be like him” John had said. When they asked what you wanted to be when you were older. John always said. ”I want to be James Bond!” It was quiet a dream that he had. Living a dangerous life. Knowing that you had people that wanted to kill you around every corner. That was his dream! And now he had it! But this time he weren’t Bond. He was the shorter side kick. And Sherlock was James Bond. With his black wild curls and pale skin. And those perfect shaped lips.   
”Kid we have arrived”   
John looked up and saw that the other Taxi had stopped. He opened the door and sprinted to the other cab. But no signs of Sherlock were there. 

”I know that you want to know how i did it”. They were in a building. Possibly a elementary school. They stood in a classroom. Colorful colored walls. School benches. A shiver went through Sherlocks body. Childhood. His ruined childhood.   
”Of course i am what would be the point with this if i didn’t want to put you under bars ?” Sherlock said. He felt nervous.   
”Mr Holmes i want to test your skills-what have you deduced about me ?” the cabbie said. Sherlock smiled. Finally they were talking.   
”Your name is Jefferson Hope, you have a daughter named Rachel, she is 22 and has left you alone. Your wife Sandra died in a car crash ten years ago with your two other kids Fanny and Lucy. Both twins three years old. When they died you were devastated and turned to the bottle. You became an alcoholic and began to abuse Rachel. Not physically but psychically. You blamed her for the death of your family. She hated you for years. When she finally had the chance to leave you at the age of 18 she took it. She haven’t talked to you since that. How many right did i get ?”. Jefferson looked at him in shock. Sherlock knew it. This was his weak spot. His pressure point.   
”Yes-you were right” Jefferson said. His lip trembling a little. Sherlock stood there and looked very calm. Jefferson walked over to him and they hugged. Sherlock never liked hugs.   
”I am sorry i couldn’t resist a touch of drama!” Jefferson whispered as he put the syringe in Sherlocks shoulder.   
”WHAT THE HELL IS THAT” Sherlock screamed. Panting for air.   
”Don’t worry Mr Holmes you will be dead in only seconds” Sherlock lost sight and conciseness. His body could take loads of Opium. But what was this ? He fell into the ground. Sherlock could hear a loud bang and then strong arms around him.   
”I am here for you Sherlock”


	4. Meeting the fanclub

~3 months later~  
John spent every moment he didn’t need to be in class, and mybe a few moments he was supposed to be in class by Sherlock’s bedside. In that time he’d come to accept the fact that he was utterly and completely in love with Sherlock and he couldn’t care less whether that made him gay or not. After Sherlock almost died, (and he still could), he’d realized protecting his heterosexuality was no where near as important to him as Sherlock was. Besides John’s near constant presence, Sherlock didn’t get too many visitors. There were the periodic visits from Mycroft, a nice lady named Mrs. Hudson, and surprisingly Greg. The first time Greg had showed up John figured it was really moral support for him rather than to see Sherlock, but he had begun to notice that Mycroft seemed awfully close with Greg. One time he’d heard Greg say something was “Not his division,” which seemed like either quite the coincidence or he’d learnt that phrase from Mycroft. John didn’t know how he would feel about Greg being in a relationship with Mycroft, but right now he had more important things to think about than his best mates possible relations with the brother of the man he loved. When had his life become so complicated? Just as John was about to doze off, in what had become his chair in Sherlock’s hospital room, his alarm went off telling him it was time to leave for class. With one last sad look at Sherlock and his usual reminder to the nurse to call him if anything changed he was off.  
When John returned there was already someone in Sherlock’s room. The figure was obviously female, but not that of Mrs. Hudson, so this was a new visitor. He opened the door quietly, trying to identify the newcomer. He recognized her from around campus, but couldn’t put a name with the face. She looked up and smiled sadly at John. It was the worst kind of smile filled with pity and it made John want to burst into tears because it looked like the smiles he’d received at his father’s funeral. This new visitor, whether she knew it or not, was assuming Sherlock wouldn’t make it. Suddenly John felt angry.  
“And you are?” he snapped  
“Molly, Molly Hooper,” she responded and when John didn’t make any sort of greeting she continued, “I actually came to see you. Well, no, I wanted to see Sherlock, but I knew you would be here and I wanted to talk to you. I heard that you spend all your time here and, well I just wanted to tell you that you could talk to me about it if you want to. There’s actually a bunch of us that get together, and sort of share stories about Sherlock and such. Not that we- we don’t do that because we think- We did this before the, uh,” Molly gestured to Sherlock to indicate ‘the coma’, “Anyways you’re welcome to join us. We meet tomorrow night 7ish at Benedict’s flat” John didn’t respond so Molly scribbled down the address left it on the table and made to leave. Right before she went out the door she added, “Just, think about it. Please.” John nodded and she left. John sighed and sat down in his chair, “Sherlock, I think I’ve been asked to join your fanclub. Don’t worry I won’t go that would be- well it probably violates you in some way.” This time as John dozed off there was no alarm to stop him from falling asleep.  
Despite his promise to Sherlock, John found himself outside the door of Benedicts flat at 7:10 the next night. He took a deep breath and knocked. A tall man with slicked blonde hair, green eyes and a turtleneck sweater was on the other side when the door opened.  
“Benedict?” John asked.  
“Oh yes, Benedict Cumberbatch. It’s a pleasure to meet you John Watson,” he said with a goofy smile and held out to shake John’s hand before finally letting him inside. Once in Benedict’s flat John was greeted with the sight of Molly sitting on a small couch next to a very well dressed dark haired boy and Irene Adler, who had quite a reputation on campus, in a folding chair to the one side of the couch sat another boy with longer dark hair and a slightly scruffy beard. There was another empty folding chair that Benedict ushered John into. Benedict then took a rolling chair in front of the couch and smoothed down his already smoothed down hair.  
“Now where were we?”  
“You were all droning on about where you think Sherlock got the blue scarf he wears while I was doing something much more useful and thinking of all the different ways I could tie him up with it,” Irene smirked. John gaped and Benedict looked rather flustered, but the dark haired boy next to Molly chuckled resulting in a slap in the arm and a, “Jim!” from a deeply flushed Molly.  
“This is a serious club! Not somewhere for you to share your sexual fantasies!” the boy in the chair shouted sounding exasperated.  
“Oh, get over yourself Anderson. I expect Molly to fill the part of the blushing virgin, not you.”  
Oh god, what had John gotten himself into?


End file.
